In Gdansk, Elders Watched as the Young Struck

By JOHN TAGLIABUE, Special to the New York Times

Published: May 12, 1988

GDANSK, Poland, May 11—
They stood there in the faded blue denim of Poland's working class, broad men with their hands dug deep in pockets against a chill wind off the Baltic Sea.

These men, welders, toolmakers and mechanics, either never joined the strike at the big Lenin shipyard here or left before it ended on Tuesday with a grim march from the yard. Some of them were bitter, and some were disillusioned. Some were simply weary. They had struck in 1970 and then again in 1980, when they were the motivating force behind the Solidarity union, only to see the union crushed.

A small man in a brown leather jacket who was not among the strikers said: ''We went out looking for a strike. We found kids playing games. It was so sudden, and nobody knew anything.'' Backbone of Polish Labor

In August 1980, they had been the backbone of Polish labor. They brought down Edward Gierek, the Polish leader. They carried Solidarity, the first independent trade union ever in an Eastern bloc country, on their backs.

This time, they voted with their feet to stay outside, while 400, perhaps 500 of their buddies remained inside until the end. Some of the workers thought the strike would end in a brutal Government crackdown, but ultimately it failed to ignite a brushfire across Poland, as the strikes in 1980 did.

Those who stayed away won't give their names, and some insist they were never part of the strike. Others admitted they had joined, when the welders down at the big hull and bulkhead assembly division started shouting for work action last Monday, but jumped ship when the Government sent the riot police to surround the yard three days later. 'Kids Playing Games'

The neighborhood around the Lenin yard, with a work force of 10,000, became an armed camp. Even as non-strikers lined up Tuesday for their pay, jeeps, police vans, foot patrolmen and plainclothes agents seemed to be everywhere.

Some complained of poor organization by the young workers - ''children,'' they called them -who had dashed in headlong without laying the groundwork for a successful strike.

The man who spoke of ''kids playing games'' and a friend described how they were ordered into a bunker with members of the factory security force, held for 48 hours, and then told to go home on Thursday, when the riot police surrounded the yard.

Repeated setbacks have dampened their fire. ''Not everyone wants to strike,'' the first man went on. ''It's happened so often in Poland, and so far it hasn't had any effect.'' 'It Just Doesn't Help'

''In 1980 it was more spontaneous, the organization was better and more people took part,'' he said. He acknowledged that ''conditions are worse now,'' but added, ''Not everyone's willing to do it. It just doesn't help.''

The shipyard workers here struck to support steelworkers in Nowa Huta, who stopped work last week until the Government sent in a police force to break up the strike committee.

There were fitful attempts to organize strikes in support of the Gdansk strike, like the one Monday at the Ursus tractor works near Warsaw, but none took hold.

Low pay and withering prospects for the future fired the young, most of the workers agreed.

''I think they began the strike because their wages are very low, and what kind of future do they face?'' a 54-year-old mechanic asked. 'We Are Old'

Had he been there in 1980?

''From beginning to end,'' he replied. But now, with a wife and two children, and six years to retirement, things have changed.

''We are old,'' he said. ''The young people must gain more experience. It is necessary to have a breakthrough in Poland. But more time is needed. You have to find a foundation.'' The mechanic was one of those who recalled December 1970, when the Communist leader Wladyslaw Gomulka sent in troops to quell strikes and about 50 workers were killed.

The younger men recalled 1982, the last time strikes shook Gdansk, when riot police beat workers and led them off handcuffed after they struck to protest the declaration of martial law and the crushing of Solidarity.

''It's fear,'' a young worker said, ''fear for themselves, fear for their families, fear of getting beat up.''

Then, referring to the Government's spokesman, Jerzy Urban, whose weekly televised news conferences make him a symbol of the regime, and a lightning rod for worker anger, he added: ''Fear of Urban.''